


Shine a Light (I’m only looking for some peace)

by writing_as_tracey



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Don't Have to Know Sense8 Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Inspired By Sense8, Love, M/M, Psychic Bond, Senses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_as_tracey/pseuds/writing_as_tracey
Summary: "We are more human than any human will be."*One second she was in California, and then next, somewhere else. How could Betty explain to her friends or parents that she made a new friend, and by the way, she lives in Barcelona but she'd never even met the girl before?Betty navigates the turbulent waters of her sister's disappearance while avoiding a shadowy figure by the name of Whispers. But she's not alone - she's got her cluster with her. A multi-chapter Bughead, Varchie + Sense8 clustermates AU.





	Shine a Light (I’m only looking for some peace)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: It’s bitten me, since finishing season two - a Sense8/Riverdale story. What have I done?
> 
> No real knowledge of the Sense8 universe is needed, as I'll explain things as I go (TL;DR - 8 people who share the same birthday have a psychic link that allows them to "visit" and share feelings with one another). However, if you're aware of the story, it'll make things easier to visualize, I think.
> 
> If you do need to know what Sense8 is, check out the promo trailer for season 1: [Sense8 season 1 trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9c_KSZ6zMk)
> 
> Title from [Banner - Shine a Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaLblVmnNL4):
> 
> Light will lead the way, will set you free  
> 'Cause I'm only looking for a little peace  
> And when the night falls  
> Oh, call on me  
> Just don't forget to show me some mercy  
> Ooh, say you're mine / Ooh, take me higher
> 
> shine a light on / Shine a light on me  
> (Woah) shine a light on / Shine a light on me  
> 'Cause I was lost at sea  
> While the waves were dragging me underneath  
> (Woah) shine a light on / Shine a light on me

Shine a Light (I’m only looking for some peace)

 *

_Everything you know about fear, about love, about connection, about identity is about to change; you are no longer just you._

\- _Sense8_ (season 1 promo trailer)

*

*

*

Part I: B & V

*

The first time it happened, Betty thought she was losing her mind. She scrambled for her Xanax, the prescription bottle tucked somewhere in her purse. Because there was no explanation for it – no possible way to explain what was happening to her.

One second, she was in LA, on a sidewalk with tall palm trees on either side of the street and the warmth of the Californian sun beating down on her blonde hair, the honks of cars and the sound of tourists and people laughing and talking –

Then she was in a bedroom. The bed was huge, beyond her tiny double, covered in luxurious red. The walls were wood panels, and there was a stone fireplace with a warm fire going in its grate. Along an entire wall of the bedroom were floor-to-ceiling windows, and between the sets of windows were two glass balcony doors, left wide open. The view beyond the balcony stopped Betty cold – almost literally. She was surrounded by snow-capped mountains; the air was frigid and there was at least a foot of snow on the balcony in an area not cleared on either side.

Shouts – a man’s and a woman’s – echoed from further inside the ski chalet, but it was hard to make out. Instead, Betty turned to the balcony. A young woman with long, shoulder-length black hair, in just a purple silk robe and matching short silk nightgown, stood barefoot, resting her arms on the wooden railing.

Betty stepped forward carefully, her gladiator sandals crunching in the snow as she moved out of the room. The snow instantly seeped into the cracks of the shoes, and chilled her toes.

“Um, excuse me?” she asked tentatively.

At the sound, the young woman stiffened. She brought her hands up off the railing and scrubbed them on her cheeks, whipping around angrily.

“WHAT?” she shouted, eyes flashing furiously. “God, what do you _want_?”

Betty stepped back in shock, and the young woman’s mouth dropped open. Their eyes met – Betty’s wide and green, and the Latina woman’s were narrowed and dark. The woman opened her mouth to speak and—

Betty stumbled, blinking. Someone on the sidewalk jostled her with their shopping bags and pushed against her. But importantly, Betty was no longer in the ski chalet, but back in LA. She spun in a circle, looking left and right and up and down, but—

 _What happened?_ She thought, biting her lower lip, her eyes darted back and forth, as she tried to process what happened.

She visibly shook herself, and then continued walking, on her way to USC to visit her older sister, resolved to put the strange event behind her.

It worked for three weeks before it happened again.

*

It was five am, and Betty was a sweaty, hot, and sticky mess. Dressed in a gorgeous green halter-top a pair of high-waist black shorts, and tall knee-high boots, Betty was catching quite a lot of attention in the noisy and dim nightclub she and her best friend Kevin Keller had decided to attend for her eighteenth birthday. The nightclub wasn’t as busy as it normally would have been, with Spring Break having started just a few days previous; the majority of the college students had disappeared to Cabo and those who remained were studying.

But importantly, neither she nor Kevin should have been at the club – both were underage, still high school seniors, and used fake IDs to get in. Neither Kevin nor Berry particularly cared.

Betty was lost in the music; her body swaying left and right and her hips circling, arms thrown high over her head as the heavy beat of the bass thrummed through her body. Getting lost on the dance floor was one of the few places where the cruel words of her mother’s criticisms would disappear; it was where Betty could let her anger over maintaining her ‘perfect’ reputation go and become the person she wanted to be.

Kevin, who had his hands low on her hips and swaying behind her, leaned forward and shouted in her ear. “Hottie at six o’clock, I’m going for it.”

Betty opened her eyes and spotted the man who caught Kevin’s attention. She nodded, bringing one arm down to Kevin’s side behind her. “I’m going to use the toilets. Don’t go far,” she shouted back.

Kevin squeezed her hip, and then disappeared in the throng of people between her and his target; she slowly moved through the crowd, finally making it to the toilets near the patio exit for smokers, and slipped into the women’s.

Overheated, Betty leaned on the porcelain sink and splashed cold water on her neck, dabbing with paper towel. She blinked at her reflection, turning her chin this way and that as she surveyed her smudged makeup.

“I like the shoes,” a slightly accented female voice said.

Betty jumped, whirling to see the girl from the ski chalet leaning against the closed door to a graffiti-covered stall. She was dressed in a pretty, very fashionable burgundy-coloured dress with a string of pearls across her neck.

Betty looked back and forth at the empty bathroom, except for the two of them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

“Oh, no one is,” replied the girl, grinning.

“What do you mean?” asked Betty, stepping forward and then –

She was outside, in a sun-drenched garden, under a long, white pergola. There were tiny metal lanterns hanging from the rafters across the top, in between gauzy white fabric that made for a canvas roof. The ground was smoothed stone, with grout between to level the flooring. The garden was large and lush, with tall trees shading areas of the grass, and strangely shaped topiary bushes every few feet.

A parquet floor off to the side of the garden held an orchestra, which was calmly playing their way through a classical piece. People were dancing on the temporary flooring, or standing in groups near a buffet table, under another long pergola, or in the shade. All were talking in low voices – in a language she barely recognized as Spanish, having taken French. Some clinked their high-end china as they sat at tables under individual pergolas and gazebos.

Betty spun in a slow circle, looking this way and that, eyes wide at the finely dressed women in their pastel coloured summer dresses and the men in white or tan linen suits.

“Where am I?” she breathed.

“Barcelona,” replied the raven-haired woman, idly looking at her nails. She sat at a large round table in the far corner of the garden, alone. The linen was on the table was a fine white, and there were numerous empty plates of varying size left on it as well.

The woman reached for a champagne flute and toasted Betty.

“Felicitations,” she said, drowning it.

“What?” asked Betty, and then they were back in the grimy bathroom of the nightclub, the young woman walking forward and peering at her reflection in the streaky mirror.

She glanced at Betty from the corner of her eye. “Many happy returns and all that rot,” she explained. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“I –ah, yes,” stuttered the blonde, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“It’s mine too,” she said, waving a finger around in a circle, and they were back in the bright garden, watching as couples moved through coordinated waltzes on the large dance floor. “Eighteen.”

“Happy birthday,” said Betty in surprise. “But why aren’t you dancing? Is this your party?”

The young woman frowned. “It might be my birthday, but it’s my father’s party. He’s hijacked it and turned it into another corporate gathering.”

“I’m sorry,” said Betty empathetically. Betty gingerly sat on the plush cushion of a chair next to the woman. “I’m Betty by the way.”

The other woman turned and smiled. “Veronica,” she said. “You’re in LA, right?”

Betty nodded. “Yes...”

“I thought so,” grinned Veronica. “I recognized a few street signs when you were in the car the other day – with your mother, I think?”

Betty frowned and thought back to what Veronica could be speaking about – and then she remembered. A few days earlier, her mother had picked her up from school, and driven her from their suburban home in Woodland Hills to her sister at the University of Southern California.

“How did you know that?” asked Betty.

Veronica tapped her nose. “I was in the car with you – briefly. You were pissed. I felt it here, in Barcelona.” She gave a tiny moue of displeasure. “I think I yelled at Smithers. He wasn’t too pleased with my sudden emotional state.”

Betty’s mouth dropped open. Of course, she was upset; her mother had informed Betty and she and Hal were going to be out of town for a conference, and Betty was supposed to spend her birthday with her uncle, alone. Her mother then proceeded to tell her about her itinerary and the medication she would need to take, and what extracurricular activities she would need to complete while Alice and Hal Cooper were gone.

“But – _how_?” asked Betty, and then they were back in the bathroom.

Veronica crossed her arms and shrugged. “No idea. Has it happened before to you?”

“No.” Betty shook her head. “I’ve only ever seen you. God, I thought I was losing my mind. That all that extra schoolwork and activities my mother makes me do finally broke my mind! I finally snapped and lost it.”

Veronica frowned. “Well, that sounds terrible.”

Betty closed her eyes and leaned back against the sink, her hands behind her to hold her up. “It is. Sometimes I just want to leave this place and everything all behind.”

“Barcelona is nice this time of year,” grinned Veronica, and Betty laughed.

From the pocket of her shorts, a ping made itself known. Betty fished the phone out, and swiped her finger across the screen. Kevin had sent her a message.

_r u still in the bthrm? Hottie McHottie was not so hot_

“Sorry, my friend is wondering where I am,” apologized Betty, a default of hers.

Veronica shrugged. “No problem.” She eyed the phone though. “Do you think this is all real?”

“What do you mean?” asked Betty, looking up from the reply she was composing ( _Yes, I’m nearly done. Sorry, Kev_ ).

“How am I sure you’re not a figment of my imagination?” asked Veronica idly.

“How do I know _you’re_ not one of mine?” scoffed Betty, eyeing the well-dressed woman. “I’m on more prescription drugs than is probably healthy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a side effect.”

Veronica snapped her fingers and thrust out her hand, palm up, towards Betty. “Then give me your phone. I’ll add my number in.”

“And?” asked Betty sceptically, but she passed her phone over.

Veronica hunched over it, typing away. “I won’t know this number, will I? Call me. We’ll talk. It’ll prove I’m real.”

“FaceTime,” argued Betty.

“Agreed,” said Veronica, handing the phone back.

Betty turned and strode from the bathroom, and Veronica was nowhere to be seen. Betty assumed that if she were a real person, she’d be sitting at her lonely table at her birthday party in Barcelona.

Kevin was leaning against the wall opposite the women’s, his tall and lanky body covered in a very nice, but sweaty, white button-up and dark trousers.

“What took you so long?” he asked, running his eyes up and down her body. “There’s little you need to do to be any more gorgeous.”

Betty rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and shoved at her friends’ shoulder. “What do you say we leave this place?”

“Yeah,” agreed Kevin, bumping his shoulder with hers, and together they left the club, hailing the first taxi they found and provided him with directions to a twenty-four hour Denny’s.

The restaurant was quiet, although busy enough with the usual 2am to 6am evening crowd often found in twenty-four hour restaurants, but the two found a booth with little difficulty. Betty slid onto the red plastic, her tights sticking a little to it.

“I’m going to freshen up,” offered Kevin. “Can you order me a coffee?”

Betty nodded and waited until he left, and then fished her phone out of her purse, scrolling through the contacts until she found a new one: _Veronica Lodge_. The European country code for Spain at the beginning of Veronica’s number was bizarre, but Betty only hovered above the +34 for a moment, and then located the FaceTime app and clicked on it instead.

The familiar Apple _brrrring brrrring_ echoed in Betty and Kevin’s booth, and then the other end connected.

“ _Buenas,_ Betty,” greeted Veronica, her white teeth flashing in a wide, beaming smile. She continued speaking, but in English, with a slightly accented tinge to her words. “I think this experiment demonstrates that we both exist.”

Betty nodded, her eyes wide. “This is crazy. You’re in Spain. I’m in the States. And yet, we were with one another.”

“Visiting in each other’s heads,” agreed Veronica. “That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” laughed Betty. She began to coil a bit of her ponytail around her index finger. “What do you think caused it?”

“No idea.” Veronica shook her head and her image moved a little as she shifted. “Did you have any traumatic experiences lately?”

“My life is traumatic,” sighed Betty, leaning back in the booth. Luckily, she was against the wall, facing into the rest of the restaurant. “But I think I can categorically rule out being an alien from another planet, a radioactive spider bite, or being part of a secret government organization.”

Veronica laughed.

“Are you still at the garden?” asked Betty, frowning. “Or are you with someone now?”

“No,” Veronica shook her head. “Daddy’s party ended an hour or so ago, and I went home. He continued his unofficial meeting by going to a men’s club, of course. Mom decided to go shopping. Or a spa. Something. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Betty earnestly. “You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”

“I’m not,” said Veronica, tapping the glass of her phone. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Betty smiled. “That you are.”

And that, was the beginning of their friendship.

*

Betty and Veronica spoke _constantly_ on the phone, whether it was through text messages, SnapChat, FaceTime, or becoming friends on Facebook. And if they weren’t on the phone with one another, or social media, they were visiting each other to the point that it was easy for them to find the mental link between California and Barcelona. It was just a slight touch, and then the other girl would know they were being “called” and could appear.

At first, no one knew that the two had connected, because how could Betty explain to her friends or parents that she made a new friend, and by the way, she lives in Barcelona?

Eventually, a few months later, Polly learned about Betty’s new friend. Betty was adjusting to having Polly back home from her second year at USC, in her old bedroom, and not living in her sorority while she saved up some cash. It took a few days for them to work out a system to their shared bathroom, and a few more days before Alice and Hal Cooper were able to manage their eldest daughter’s intense privacy demands (which were still an ongoing struggle).

As it was, Betty remained a silent viewer to these arguments, with Veronica watching wide-eyed from the side, an unseen spectator. Later, the two would then retreat to Betty’s bedroom, where the blonde Californian would complete her homework and Veronica would distract her with stories of her best friend Camila and the latest misdemeanour the two got up to.

This time was different.

“Why would you ever waste your future like this?” Alice Cooper shouted at her daughter, leaning over the kitchen table and towards her daughter who sat at one end, her husband at the other, and her and Betty in the middle.

At the opposite end, Polly sat quietly, demurely, her hands folded across her stomach. Her face however, was a splotchy red.

“I don’t see it as wasting my future when I’m in love,” she retorted.

Hal Cooper, silent, arms crossed at the other end of the table, closed his eyes in dismay at her words. “You’re twenty, Polly. You’re still young. You had one year left in your degree and you want to give it up for your boyfriend and this... this baby you’re going to have? How are you going to live? Support yourself?”

“Jason will take care of me,” the eldest Cooper said. “We have a plan and we’ve thought it all out.”

“No! I forbid it!” snapped Alice.

“I’m an adult,” replied Polly, angrily. “You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

“I can while you’re living in this house, young lady!” retorted Alice with a slash of her hand downward. “And you’re _not_ dropping out of school to raise a baby!”

“That’s my choice!”

“And what about this Jason character? What does he have to say about it? Does _he_ get to remain in university and graduate?”

Betty winced at her mother’s words and curled her fingers into her palms. Although she was not part of the discussion, she felt every barbed word and cruel tone her mother threw at her sister just as keenly as if Alice was speaking to her.

“ _T_ _ía_ , I think you should leave,” said Veronica quietly from behind Betty, where she leaned against the kitchen counter. “I don’t think you should be around for this discussion. It’s going to get nasty.”

Betty nodded frantically.

“Oh, my, God,” groaned Polly, turning to face her sister. “Don’t tell me you agree with mom and dad!”

“What?” Betty shook herself and then flushed. She forgot anything she said or did in response to Veronica would happen in her geographical space – versus Veronica, who only existed in Betty’s mind, could speak aloud, and move around without anyone noticing her.

“You better not do anything like your sister the moment you begin classes at Stanford, Elizabeth,” cautioned Alice, turning her attention to her youngest. “You have a bright future ahead of you in journalism and you don’t want to throw it all away on a _boy_.”

“God, he’s not just a _boy_ , he’s the man I love!” cried Polly, exasperated.

“We’ll see about that.” The final words said by Alice, firmly supported by a nod from Hal, were enough to bring Polly to her feet, her chair clattering to the floor behind her.

With a muffled sob, she turned and raced out of the kitchen. The four left behind could hear the thundering pounds of her feet on the stairs and then the slam of her bedroom door as it shut.

Alice turned her face to her other daughter, eyes narrowed. “Is there anything you want to share with us?”

“What?” Betty jumped to her feet too, but her chair only scraped back. “God, no. I need to finish an AP history report for Monday, okay mom?”

Alice took a deep breath, standing straight and nodded. She crossed her arms and peered down at her daughter. “Good.”

Betty high-tailed it out of the kitchen, Veronica on her heels, as they ran up the stairs and then into the sanctity of Betty’s bedroom, collapsing on her bed with loud gasps.

“B, I thought _my_ family was crazy,” gasped Veronica, turning her head to face her friend. Betty had been spectator to a few loaded conversations between Hiram and Hermione Lodge when visiting Veronica, and often had to spend time with the girl when Hermione accused Hiram of some dodgy business deal or partner.

Betty twisted on her bed to face her friend. “I’ve never seen my parents like that, V. Ever.”

“Poor Polly,” sighed Veronica, her eyes on Betty’s popcorn ceiling. “What do you think she’ll do?”

“I don’t know,” Betty closed her eyes and propped her head up in one hand, the other resting on her hip. “She seems so determined to keep the baby, but... I mean, I didn’t even know she was dating someone.”

 “If she feels that way, I guess she must really love him,” mused Veronica quietly. “Could you imagine having that kind of love? It’s beautiful, in a tragic sense.”

Betty hummed her agreement, opening her mouth to speak when—

“Betty?”

Startled, Betty sat up and turned to face her bathroom door, where Polly stood, framed in the late afternoon light. Her sister was staring at her with a strange expression on her face.

“Betty, since when did you speak Spanish?”

Veronica cursed under her breath.

Wringing her hands, Betty slowly stood and said, “Um. So... it’s actually a bit of a crazy story...”

“Yeah? More than getting pregnant and wanting to drop out of university to raise redheaded babies?” asked Polly darkly, stepping into the bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Betty blinked. “Well, no, but –” she sighed, and then patted the spot she vacated on the bed. “Sit down. I’ve got a bit of a story to tell you.”

*

A few hours later, a wide-eyed Polly with her mouth open, finally turned to the empty space on the bed next to her. It was hard to believe that her sister said there was a raven-haired woman from Barcelona lounging there, listening to their conversation from inside Betty’s _head_. But – it wasn’t the strangest thing she heard, and a few connections were beginning to fire inside _her_ mind regarding her boyfriend and his sister.

“So, Veronica’s here right now?” asked Polly.

“Yes,” said Betty, pacing in the space between the bed, bedside table, and bedroom wall, along where her window was located.

“And she’s been there since your eighteenth birthday, three months ago?” continued Polly.

Betty nodded. “ _Yes._ ”

“And she was there during the fight earlier?”

“Yes!” Betty snapped, throwing herself down on the bed across from her sister, perching on the edge. “I can visit Barcelona in a moment, and she can visit me. We’ve been talking and spending time together. It’s like... it’s like we’re connected. Connected in ways I could never imagine.”

Polly cast a dubious look at the empty space on the bed, but then sighed. “I believe you. You’re not someone to make something like this up – especially on all that medication mom’s got pumped into you. They’d lock you away first if you ever said something. You wouldn’t risk that.”

“I still call bullshit on that,” said Veronica from her place, and Betty sent her a quick, fleeting grin.

“What? What did she say?” asked Polly, sitting up straight, looking back and forth between the empty bed space and her younger sister.

Betty gave a tiny laugh, ducking her head. “She said that me taking the meds is bullshit.”

Polly snorted. “I completely agree. Most of my anxiety went away the second I move out of this house.” She stretched. “God, I hope you get accepted into a sorority at Stanford.”

“Me too,” said Betty quietly. She looked at her sister. “Are we... good?”

“Yeah,” grinned Polly. “And it’s kind of cool, you know – having someone in your head all the time. Anyway – I need to call Jason and tell him what happened. He’ll probably come and pick me up and we’ll go rent an apartment or something until he accesses his trust fund.”

“Trust fund?” asked Betty the same time Veronica sat up.

“Yeah,” nodded Polly, “His family runs this giant maple syrup empire – the Blossoms? We met at a USC and UCLA sport event – he’s on the UCLA football team – and hit it off at an after party.”

“Wow!” Betty blinked in surprise. “God, Polly, you’re going to be set for life. No wonder you’re not worried about dropping out or raising the baby.”

Polly shrugged. “I mean, the money helps, but... God, Betty. I love him. I really do.”

Betty leaned forward and wrapped her sister in a hug, squeezing her tight. “I can tell.”

“Anyway,” laughed Polly, pulling back from the hug. “I’ve got plans to make. We’ll talk later?”

“Of course!” grinned Betty.

Polly stood and left the bedroom the same way she entered, through the bathroom door. Betty sighed happily and fell forward onto the bed, propping herself up to look at Veronica.

“I’m glad that worked out,” revealed Betty.

“For now,” agreed Veronica, with a tiny Gallic shrug. “We’ll see if her knowing makes a difference in the long run.”

Betty sighed. “Suck the fun out of it, why don’t you, V.”

“One of us has to be the logical one when you decide to take a break from it,” argued her friend with a tiny grin to ease the sting. “Anyway – it’s nearly four in the morning here. I need sleep. _‘Sta logo_!”

Veronica disappeared – silently and immediately – and Betty was alone in her bedroom. She got ready for bed, putting on her pajamas, brushing her teeth, and flossing, and then turned down her bed covers.

She fell into a deep sleep, full of dreams of Veronica getting her nails done – which was probably less of a dream and more of a reality, and she could feel her friends’ satisfaction of being pampered even through the dull connection on her end.

She dreamed of floating in a warm ocean, on a surfboard, her arms paddling furiously to catch a wave, although her arms were thick and burly and covered with fine red hair.

She dreamed of the steady chants and heady smell of intense; twice over with a male voice and a female one, both speaking in different languages and for different reasons.

She dreamed of many other things – things she couldn’t identify readily and things that slipped away the deeper she fell into sleep, until they were hazy recollections.

Banging on her door, and then her mother’s sharp voice, roused her from her deep sleep.

“What?” mumbled Betty, struggling to open her eyes as she sat up in bed. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” echoed Alice, her voice pitched. “What’s going on is that I go in to work this morning, only to find out there was a shooting at UCLA – a student there was targeted in a lecture hall but disappeared.”

“What? That’s horrible,” said Betty, rubbing at her eyes. “But... why are you telling me this? And what time is it?”

“It’s nearly _noon_ , Elizabeth,” sharply responded Alice. “And it’s _important_ because this students’ name was _Jason Blossom_ and when I came home to speak to your sister, _she was gone_.”

The world dropped out from under Betty. She was wide awake, staring at her mother – the pinched look on her face, the tightness around her eyes demonstrating her worry and fear for Polly – as well as the tremble in her hands that she tried to keep hidden.

Betty threw the covers back and leapt out of bed, dashed through the shared bathroom, and into Polly’s room, unchanged from childhood. The bed was made, and everything looked exactly like normal – there were no open drawers or scattered clothes.

But there was a note on a scrap piece of paper on her desk, which Betty snatched up. With wide eyes, she read the paper, wondering why her mother didn’t find it.

 _Betty –_  
I’m going to find Jason. He’s in trouble, I know it. I’ll be okay though.  
_Love you, Polly._

Betty stared at the paper, her fingers tight and nearly ripping it as she struggled to breathe.

_God, Polly--!_

And in that moment – more than her changed, odd experience that she shared with Veronica Lodge – Betty knew life was never going to be the same again.

*

TBC...

*


End file.
